Cheers For Loving You
by Rinforzando
Summary: μ's decides to hold a Secret Santa. Nico's absolutely certain her gift is going to be bomb no matter what—this is, until she gets Maki. And, well—crap. What's a girl to do when she has to figure out what to get for someone who seems to hate her guts?


**Author's Notes:** LLuminati Secret Santa gift for ffnet author Yuniran! This is actually a response to an ask she sent me over a year ago on tumblr—before we were even friends—and I really think it is fate that I happened to be her SS so that I could finally answer her prompt. I've also included a little extra audio link within the fic itself, if any of you are interested!

Enjoy!

* * *

Nico likes to think of herself as an expert cost-effective gift-giver. It's a skill that comes from a variety of factors: conserving monthly allowances, capitalizing on sales in shopping sprees, being the best caring older sister of three. While funds in the Yazawa household aren't exactly tight, Nico's learned to make the best of what she has, to get every bang for every buck. Gifts don't have to be expensive in order to be good. They just have to be thoughtful. Tailored. Personalized.

Granted, until her third year of high school, the previous years haven't been too kind on her in terms of friendship, so she hasn't really been able to exercise her gift-giving talents on anyone except her little siblings, but.

That isn't the point.

True, while it has been strange being in a group of close-knit friends after being friendless for so long, loneliness hasn't whittled down her ability to observe people, to take note of their likes and dislikes. Nico's known the members of μ's for almost eight months now. For eight months, she's been fostering affection for each and every one of them, all of their habits and idiosyncrasies, their fixations and passions. For eight months, she's been planning ways to lavish them with heartfelt gifts, as thanks for being the best friends she's ever had. And, well, for giving her the opportunity to be the school idol she's always wanted to be.

And what better time to do that than during the holiday gift-giving season.

Which is why when Eli bursts into the room waving around a Santa hat, Nico's feeling extra confident.

"Soooo," Eli begins, sauntering to the center of the room of Nozomi's apartment, sending said girl a wink, "in celebration of our victory against A-RISE in the preliminaries, I've been preparing a little something and—" She drops several sticks in the hat, swishing them around. "—I've been wondering if you'd all like to participate in a Secret Santa?"

Everyone's face lights up. Beside her on the couch, Nozomi lets out a gasp, and even Nico has to smirk at the way the other girl dabs at her eyes, trying to contain her tears of happiness. "Elichi, you _didn't_ —"

Eli grins back at her. "You bet I did. It was your idea in the first place. And I couldn't just let such a fantastic one go to waste."

"Oh goodness, Elichi. It was just a silly passing thought, and I didn't want to burden the whole group wi—"

"It's not a burden at all!" Honoka insists, bouncing up from her seat. "You're the reason why we won in the first place, Nozomi-chan! And _Snow Halation_ is a memento of that! It's our love song to each other, and I think it's perfectly fitting that we follow it up with a little lovey-dovey gift-giving!" She turns toward the group. "What do you think, guys?"

Umi nods vigorously. "It's certainly a logical step," she agrees, though her excitement gives way to embarrassment, shoulders hunching as her mouth twists. "B-But—did you _really_ have to add on 'lovey-dovey?' That's so…"

Nozomi blushes, holding her cheeks. "Elichi, really. First the surprise party, and now this. You didn't need to—"

Eli waves her hand, cutting her off. "Please, Nozomi. I know I didn't _need_ to, but I wanted to. You're the reason why μ's exists—why all of us are even friends in the first place. And it's not as though I bought everyone a gift or anything. I just took your idea and followed through with it," she says, rubbing her neck.

"Mmm… you're really just trying to butter me up, aren't you? Being so sweet like this…" Nozomi whispers huskily, hooking her hands on the back of Eli's neck and pulling her in, sending her 'Do-You-Want-to-Get-Parfaits' Eyes like the rest of the group isn't _right there_.

Umi lets out a strangled croak and promptly passes out onto Kotori's arms. Honoka cheers ("Get some, Eli-chan!"). Rin, for once, doesn't get all excitable and instead stands rooted to the spot, slack-jawed and _blushing._ Maki frowns and covers Hanayo's eyes.

(She's still intently watching them though, Nico notes, eyes glued despite the disgusted expression on her face, almost as if the disgust is a front.

Ha. Gay.)

"N-Nozomi!" Eli squeaks, losing her balance and tipping over onto the couch. Nico grunts when they collapse onto her side. "Not now!"

"Not now?" Nozomi asks innocently, batting her eyelashes. "What does that imply about later, then? Hmm?"

" _Nozomi_!"

Nico rolls her eyes. Even after eight months of actually being Eli's friend, it's still weird seeing her acting bashful, all red-faced and tongue-tied. She remembers the Eli from before: the intimidating school council president, the part-Russian beauty with a permanently set glare, the girl as hell-bent on destroying μ's as she had been. It's strange, Nico thinks, having to reconcile those two images—the then and now, the before and after μ's.

It really is thanks to the group, isn't it, that Eli's like this—full of warm smiles and kind words. Russian winter, melted into a stalwart companion, a gentle mentor. Not even two years of being friends of Nozomi had opened her up this much. There's something heartwarming about that, Nico thinks, knowing that it had taken a group effort to help change her for the better. And honestly, if Nozomi and Eli weren't so disgustingly flirting with each other, Nico would have found the whole thing way cuter.

Maki claps her hands, and everyone's heads swivels to her. "Alright, cut it out, you two," she interjects, swiping the Santa hat from Eli's hand. "Back on task. We're doing a Secret Santa, right? I bet Santa wouldn't like if we all got distracted enough to forget. Distracted by inappropriate—" She swallows, red rising to her neck. "— _behavior_ , nonetheless," she finishes, and Nico has to stop herself from laughing, because Maki's so pure she can't even say 'inappropriate bona fide _lesbian action_.'

Her amusement must have shown on her face, though, because Maki's glare swerves to her in an instant, her narrowed eyes like lasers ready burn holes into her. "What's so funny, Nico-chan," she demands, hand on her hip.

Nico bites her lips, trying to keep herself from smiling. She realizes it's not working when the line above Maki's furrowed brow sets in even further. Oooh, Maki's angry. Hot, hot _hot_! "Nothing," she says, shrugging flippantly just to piss her off even more. She lets out the shit-eating grin she's been holding back. "You're just cute, that's all."

The reaction is instantaneous. Maki's lips tremble with rage, her mouth opening and closing like she wants to throw a comeback but is too flustered to, and the blush that's been stuck on her neck extends all the way to the tip of her ears, like a dam overflowing. She balls her hands into fists. " _Nico-chan_!"

"Yes, honey?" she says, voice cloyingly sweet. She blows her a kiss.

Maki storms out of the room and shoves the Santa hat into Rin's hands.

Rin clears her throat. "Well, nya! We should take our picks now!" she says, perking up, extending the Santa hat forward to Honoka, who draws a stick before handing the hat over to Kotori. Umi's still passed out.

"Oh, what the hell," Nico says, crossing her arms, plopping back onto the couch. She turns her body toward Nozomi and Eli, sending them a sour look as they snuggle closer together, her grin dissolving in an instant. "So you get to act all lovey-dovey with Eli and get rewarded, but when _I_ do it with Maki, she runs away. That's some baloney right there."

"Well, Nicocchi, you're not actually dating Maki, so…" Nozomi sends her a look that's laced with a little too much pity, like she knows Nico is trying to casually play off her hurt.

God, not like Maki would ever think about dating her anyway. She shrugs. "Details, details. Not like I'm _trying_ to date her or anything. It's just…"

"Maki's a serious girl, Nico," Eli says, sending her a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes joking around all the time doesn't sit well with her. I used to be like that."

Nico nods, grabbing a couch pillow and clutching it to her chest. True, not that provoking Maki like that really helps the situation, but still. It's difficult showing candid affection toward someone whose default reaction is to get grossed out by anything you do. What's a girl to do if kind gestures are returned in scoffs and eye rolls? (Kind gestures mostly being gracing her with her amazing presence, of course.)

It's always been like that between them, though—maybe save for that one time during their camping trip, when they'd sat side by side next to the fire sharing potatoes. But that'd been ages ago, and sometimes she wonders if it was just something out of a dream, or if it had been a particularly potent hallucination. She still thinks about it—how Maki had actually taken her advice that day, had even used it as fuel to compose a piece overnight. Nowadays, though, it's like it'd never happened. Compliments from Nico are met with suspicious narrowed eyes, while compliments from literally anyone else are welcomed with stammered words of thankfulness and colored cheeks. Bashful gratitude. It's a side of Maki that Nico hardly ever gets to see.

The more she thinks about it, the more her lips press thin. If she's honest, it bothers her—a lot. It isn't fair. Teasing Maki is the next best thing, she supposes, because at least she can get a laugh out of it before dying a little inside. But maybe that's the closest she'll ever get to her—just back and forth jibes. Like, hell, she's spent the last eight months taking mental notes on all of Maki's habits and idiosyncrasies, her fixations and passions, but she still hasn't the faintest clue how to get close to her without getting rebuffed.

The Santa hat arrives in Eli's hand, and Nico flips open her phone. A one out of nine chance. She calculates the percentage—11.11%. Meaning that there's roughly an 88.89% chance that's she safe and that she won't pull Maki's name.

Nico likes to think of herself as an expert gift-giver, but she has no clue to give gifts to someone who already has everything and kind of dislikes her.

Nozomi places the hat on Nico's lap.

She just prays she doesn't get Maki.

* * *

She gets Maki.

Of course she does. Murphy's Law or something, right?

The moment Nico had seen the name inscribed on her stick, she'd shoved it in her pocket and never looked back. She's still holding onto it, though, and her palms have been sweaty the entire walk back home despite the cold weather. At least the holiday decorations in the neighborhood are pretty to look at during the evening—warm yellow Christmas lights draped over rooftops and evergreen trees, snowmen on the yard equipped with fresh carrot noses, lanterns illuminating driveways.

Maybe that's it. Maki likes Christmas, right? Still believes in Santa, bless her innocent soul. She could get her something Christmas-themed. Like sheet music of jazz covers of Christmas songs?

Nico remembers, though, being at Maki's vacation house and seeing the vast collection of sheet music laid upon the tiers and tiers of bookshelves, painstakingly organized by genre and time period. At a _vacation house_. One that probably only gets lived in every six months and collects dust otherwise. And considering Maki's love of jazz, she probably already has that and more.

Her shoulders slump. Oh, what the hell. Give her anyone else and she could've thought of the perfect gift for them on the spot: Honoka would've liked some nice homemade baked goods; Kotori, a new sewing kit; Rin, a cute outfit—and so on, so forth. But give her Maki and she's absolutely screwed. She runs her thumb across stick, back and forth over the indents of Maki's name as if the kanji will magically change and give her someone else.

She pulls out the stick again. 'Maki Nishikino,' penned in red ink, is still there.

But of course it is. Life is relentless in that way, isn't it? Of course she's stuck, yet again, trying to figure out a way get Maki to like her.

She runs a hand across her bangs, sucking in a deep breath of air before throwing her arms up and letting out a silent scream.

Damn it.

* * *

They only have a week to prepare their gifts.

The sky is heavy with rainclouds when she and Nozomi spend their Saturday afternoon window shopping. Pedestrians cross the street with armfuls of merchandise—gift-wrapping paper, stacks upon stacks of ribbon-tied boxes, multiple shopping bags hung on each arm. She lets out a deep sigh, stuffing her (very empty) hands in her pockets. At least other people are having luck.

It doesn't help that the forecast predicts cloudy days for the rest of the week. Gifts on the rack don't look nearly as flattering they do under a bright, sunny day: snow globes don't sparkle; the colors look washed out under gray skies, pallid and lackluster; and, well, gloomy weather has never been one to lift anyone's self-confidence. And that kind of extends to gift-picking, too.

Nico's dragging her hands down her face as she strolls through the aisles of a gift shop, squishing her cheeks together in an attempt to vent frustration. It's only been a day since they've been assigned the Secret Santas, but even after brainstorming until two in the morning and jotting down notes of Maki's likes and dislikes, she still doesn't feel any closer to an answer. She pulls out her small spiral notebook from her purse, flipping through the pages. They're all filled with crossed out lines, ideas so scratched out that she can't even make out what they used to say.

She pouts, miffed at her past self. Gosh, why was she so hasty to discard everything. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Starting with _something_ is better than starting with nothing, Nico tries to reason with herself. But sometimes it's difficult, when you're in a slump trying fighting the urge to erase everything and start anew. That'd been her downfall back when she had tried to jumpstart her school idol career back in her first year: working her ex-teammates to the bone when a concert didn't go so well, always trying new things instead of taking old ideas and sculpting them into perfection. But she's overthinking this. Any progress is good progress, she tells herself.

Any progress is good progress.

Flipping over a new page in her notebook, Nico pulls out her pen, opting to recreate her list. The first thing that comes to mind is Maki's undying love for tomatoes.

Tomatoes. Maybe she can buy a cookbook—or even make one. Recipes full of dishes involving tomatoes: spaghetti, or something snooty like balsamic bruschetta. Nico frowns. But the girl can't even cook, let alone actually _need_ to. Maki already has a whole legion of professional chefs doing that for her. Nixed.

Stargazing. Maki likes stargazing, right? Right, but Nico's a girl made out of smiles, not a tree made out of money, and she's way too damn broke to afford anything even resembling telescope. And screw the idea of getting star charts, because Maki probably has a good heap of those, too. As would any lover of constellations. Nixed, yet again.

Nico puffs out her cheeks, shoving her notebook back in her purse. Right. No wonder why she'd crossed out everything last night.

"You seem to be having trouble with ideas," Nozomi remarks, popping up behind her, head peeking over her shoulder.

Nico jumps, thwacking Nozomi on the arm. "Geez, don't scare me like that!" She puffs out her cheeks when she sees that Nozomi is also woefully empty-handed. "Not like I see you making any progress either, and we've been in the store together for like half an hour already."

Nozomi smiles. "To be honest, I haven't actually looked at who I'd gotten," she says, almost too perkily for someone who's just admitted to slacking off.

"What." Nico glowers at her. "Then you have no right to call me out for having trouble," she argues, crossing her arms.

"You're right!" Nozomi agrees. Nico curls a fist. Ugh, the nerve!

She raises an eyebrow at her. "Why did you ask to come shopping with me if you haven't even the slightest clue what to buy. Or for whom, even."

"You know, Nicocchi," Nozomi starts off, voice rising in pitch like she's trying to deflect the topic conversation. "I'm kind of surprised. You're usually all like, 'Oh, the great Nico-Nii is always remarkable at everything—even gift-giving!' It's kind of cute seeing you openly admit to having trouble with something." Oooh, yep, definitely deflecting.

Nico, because she's dumb, takes the bait anyway. She shakes her fist at her. " _You_ —"

Her impending tirade gets cut off when Nozomi hugs her from behind. Nico stiffens, ready to tell her off, but Nozomi's gentle voice dispels her ire. "You'll be fine, Nicocchi," she says, and Nico settles into her embrace, albeit grudgingly, letting her words soak in. Nozomi's always been good at that—annoying her one moment and swiftly placating her in the next. "Just remember why we're giving each other gifts in the first place. Because we all love each other, right? I think that, as long as you keep that in mind, anything you get will be perfect. Besides, it's a Secret Santa. Surprises are always nice."

Oh. Right. Secret Santa. Meaning Maki won't exactly know the gift is from her—or at least, not right away. Maybe it doesn't matter at all what she gets, as long as it's _something_. Something that Maki would love from anyone in the group.

Wait.

That's it.

Music. That's what brought them all together in the first place.

Nico spins around and clutches Nozomi's shoulders. "You absolute jerk." Nico's not sure whether or not to be peeved or happy, but she settles on acting patronized—because, hell, Nozomi always gets her even before she gets herself. "You knew I was having trouble from the start, and the only reason why you tagged along was to give me advice, wasn't it," she accuses. Nozomi only gives her a closed-eye smile as response, throwing up a peace sign. "What the heck, Nozomi."

"So I take it that you've found your answer?" Nozomi asks.

Nico hums, staring out the window. The clouds start to part. The sunbeam dances on the glass prism hanging from the ceiling, light refracting into a myriad of rainbow colors on the wall. She smiles.

"Yeah, I think so."

* * *

It takes Nico exactly two days to make it—one to gather all the materials and another to actually craft it—and by the end of everything, she decides she's had enough of sawdust in her eyes to last a lifetime.

* * *

Maki is halfway down the staircase when she spots her present sitting on the living room sofa first thing in the morning.

She just stares at it, because it's still a day too early for them to send each other presents—and anyhow, they'd all agreed beforehand to meet up at Nozomi's for the Secret Santa reveals. Whoever had prepared it had really gone all the way to make it look perfect, though: red gift paper wrapped smoothly the box, a gold ribbon tied neatly on the top. No creases or wrinkles. Maki had tried, once, wrapping her gift like that, but she'd always wound up using too much or too little paper, the sheet crinkling in odd corners, the tape tearing at the edges. In the end, she'd wasted an entire roll.

So she'd settled for having her mother help her.

Speak of the devil—

"Oh, Maki-chan!" her mother pipes up, picking up the box. "Your friend dropped by earlier to leave you this!"

Maki dashes down the stairs and swoops in, plucking it out of her hands. "It's a day early, though," she says, frowning, wondering who in the world would've gone so out of the way to do this. And for what reason. She can't imagine that it would've been Honoka or Nozomi, because they would've wanted to save it for their get-together, to take candid pictures of everyone's expressions upon opening presents. Anyone else, though, is fair game.

She turns the package over in her hands, eyeing it at different angles as though it'll give her an answer. A hollow sound resonates when she raps on the sides with her knuckles—some sort of wooden object? She shakes it gently. The weight shifts over, almost like there's sand spilling to the side of the box. Heavier than she'd expect from something only as wide as her torso. Something rattles, too. A light clinking, almost—but whatever the noise is, it certainly isn't going to announce the name of her gift-giver. Her frown deepens. "Mama, who was it?" she asks.

Her mother clicks her tongue at her. "Now now, Maki-chan. Doesn't that ruin the point of a Secret Santa?" she chastises.

Maki casts her eyes down, shuffling her feet. "Sorry, you're right. That's cheating. Santa wouldn't have been happy."

"Well," her mother says, putting a hand on her shoulder, "more than that, don't you owe it to your friend to figure out who it is? There must have been a special reason they gave you the gift early, right?"

A special reason, huh? Maki hugs the present closer her chest, wrapping both arms around in hopes that it will quell her quickening heartbeat. Just who the heck would go so out their way do something so dramatic? And especially for her?

An unwanted blush rises to her cheeks. Oh, golly.

Ducking her head before anyone can tease her about it (the maids, she knows, are relentlessly nosy; the Nishikino heir receiving secret gifts is sure to generate some juicy gossip), Maki rushes back to her room, all the while ignoring the knowing smile on her mother's face.

* * *

Maki's first instinct is to tear open the present and get to the bottom of this mystery.

As she plops onto her bed, present perched on her lap, her hand is ready to rip apart the edges of the wrapping paper, but she falters, because she's been raised better than this, than to let her curiosity turn her into an uncivilized barbarian. Big mystery or not, wrapping paper isn't meant to be shred haphazardly like an uncouth toddler would their first present, especially not if someone had put their heart and soul into the gift for her. She owes the person, doesn't she, to at least take her time.

She starts with the ribbon, hooking her fingers inside the round loops, tugging it free before laying it on her bed, a string of gold against her red comforter. Her fingers are sweaty when she tugs at the tape holding the wrapping paper together, and it's not until she accidentally rips a piece off that she realizes that her whole arm is actually shaking. When the first hints of the object reveals itself, a set of brass hinges, she grasps onto them and wiggles the present out.

Maki blinks. It's a wooden box, stained in a rich mahogany color, with the μ's logo etched on the lid. No, it's more than that, she realizes as she catches sight of the small metal crank on the side. A music box?

She turns the lever, and the tune that comes out makes her heart stop.

 _Aishiteru Banzai._

Her eyes tear up, but she doesn't stop spinning the handle, instead choosing to sing along with the lyrics. Impossible. It's _her_ song—the one she'd written herself, spending day after day in the piano room toiling away at it, trying to craft out the perfect melody. Honoka had been the only other person to hear her play the piece, but it couldn't have been her, because Honoka doesn't know how to work with music. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Who, then? Not only had this person gone out of their way to spend time listening to her play, but they'd memorized her piece well enough to actually arrange a music box cover.

By the time she reaches the end of the piece, the lid unlocks itself and pops open. Holding her breath, Maki lifts it up all the way, finding the inner workings of the music box on one side and a stack of books on the other, sectioned into two parts by a wooden divider. She collects the books into her hands, and her heart swells when she reads each title: _The Jazz Theory Book_ , _Sixty-Nine Great Tomato Dish Recipes for Beginners_ , _Constellations: Myths, Legends, and Lore._

There's even an extra roll of refill sheet music for the music box, complete with instructions on how to create a melody on the paper and place it onto the device.

The thing that makes her breath catch, though, is the envelope on the bottom of the pile, sitting face down. She sweeps it up with her hand, flipping it over to see if her sender had written anything on it, but the front is painfully empty, devoid of any hints as to who it could have been. This is ridiculous, she thinks, that someone from μ's would go so far to remain anonymous up to now, especially considering everything they've done for her.

But maybe the card inside—

Hastily tearing open the seal, Maki flips open the card. Her heart sinks. The words are all typed out, too. Her sender hadn't even given her the luxury of recognizing their handwriting. Maybe the contents of the message, then, will give her a clue.

She reads.

 _Dear Maki,_

 _You're probably wondering how anyone in_ _μ_ _'s could have known about your song. And this will probably sound a little weird, but before we'd met, I used to pass by the piano room sometimes after school. Your song was so catchy that it kept getting stuck in my head, and ever since, I've never really forgotten it. It's weird to think about it now. I never would've guessed that we'd end up working alongside each other. Who knew that you'd end up being our composer?_

 _I know you've had a rough time with parents about music, but I'm really glad that you never gave up on it. Your song is what brought Honoka to you, and Honoka is the one that brought us all together. So I thought it'd be fitting that I gave it back to you, as a keepsake of sorts._

 _It sounds kind of simple when I put it all that way, but I actually had a really tough time thinking about what to get you at first. You're the sort of girl who's got everything handed to her on a silver platter. And I don't really mean that in, like, a mean way or anything. You're rich, pretty, and talented—your family owns six vacation homes, you wear nice clothes, you're amazing at music. But I'm sure that's what you get told a lot, and I know that you probably don't like hearing that all the time. It's just—how do you get anything for someone like that?_

 _You're probably thinking that that line of reasoning is stupid. That all it takes it knowing what you like, that you shouldn't be put on a pedestal like that. And believe me, I thought really hard about it, about why I think of you that way. Maybe it's because a lot of the time we get off on the wrong foot. I don't know you as well as I'd like. We repel each other as much as we connect. Sometimes I'm not sure if you even consider me as a friend. Other times, I think that maybe…_

 _Anyway. I've gone off on a tangent, haven't I?_

 _My point is: I didn't think it was enough just knowing what you liked. I felt like I could've gotten you anything and it would've been something you would already have and more. But then someone helped me realize that anything was… okay, as long as it was from one of us. So, I got you everything that I could think of._

 _I hope it was enough._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Your Secret Santa_

When Maki reaches the end of the letter, she's frantically scrubbing the tears from her eyes, trying not to let them sully the card. She keeps rereading the last line, glaring at it like it's a huge affront to her—which it _is_ , because how could this person even consider that all of this isn't enough, when really it's _more_ than enough. Almost _too_ much. If only the gift she got were half as thoughtful.

It's not until she closes the card, about to slide it back into the envelope, that she realizes there's more to the message on the back.

The last piece of the puzzle.

 _P.S._

 _As for the whole thing about giving you this a day early, I didn't really want you to find out that this is all from me. Honestly, I'm a little afraid of how you'll react. Maybe I'm just being a big coward by asking you this, but tomorrow, when we all meet together, just rewrap the gift and pretend you didn't get open it before the others._

 _And… when you find out who I am, I don't want you to act any differently toward me. I guess I just wanted you to know that, despite how I act sometimes, I really care about you. I just couldn't tell you in person. But like I said, I don't want anything between us to change. Just be yourself._

 _Thanks for being so awesome, Maki._

 _Merry Christmas._

That cinches it. Deep down, Maki had known all along that it was her, and if there'd been any doubt as to the identity of her Secret Santa, there certainly isn't now. No, the answer is crystal clear now.

What a strange twist of fate, that they'd both ended up getting each other.

* * *

Nico's home alone when the doorbell starts exploding.

She rolls her eyes, placing her knife down on the cutting board before rinsing her hands in the sink. Her mother had taken her little siblings out to play not even ten minutes ago, but apparently Nico can't cook in peace without them running back home to disrupt her flow. Honestly, _every time_. Not that she can't recover from interruptions or anything, but once in a while, it'd be nice to have the house to herself to just relax.

"Cocoa," she starts, ripping open the door, cold air wafting in the house, "what did I tell you about _not_ needing to conduct, like, a _rock concert_ with the— "

It takes about half a second for her eyes to adjust to the glaring light outside, the white of snow blinding her temporarily, but Nico inhales sharply when her vision finally returns, both shock and the bite of winter freezing her over. Red hair. Violet eyes. Designer brand clothing. A brown satchel purse, with an item preciously sticking out. Most definitely not Cocoa. "Maki," she breathes. How—

Maki bites her lip. Nico tries not to stare. They both shuffle awkwardly, Maki playing with the straps of her purse, Nico turning the knob of her door back and forth. Finally, after ten long, uncomfortable seconds: "I didn't know you could compose. Or, I mean, arrange."

Reflexively, Nico's hand tightens around the doorknob. "I guess you don't know many things about me, then," she retorts, maybe a bit too harshly, because Maki winces at the accusation.

"You're right," Maki says, looking down, and Nico immediately feels regretful. "I'm sorry." Oh, hell, there's an _apology_ , too?

Nico sighs. "Oh, come on. Don't—I didn't mean it," she says, but Maki doesn't look any less guilty, with worry lines etched on her forehead, a frown tugging down her lips. Great. She'd just made her upset. "How did you figure out it was me?" she asks, trying to change the topic of conversation.

Maki's eyes harden, her resolve returning full force. That's the Maki that Nico's used to seeing—steely, purposeful. "Just because you go out of your way to hide your identity doesn't mean I'm any less capable of figuring it out. You're the only one who could've done anything of this. I had a feeling, at first, but after reading the letter, I just… knew. You're the only one who could've written any of that."

Nico's sweating by the time Maki finishes her explanation, and even though Maki's staring directly at her, she can't bring herself to look back, instead opting to stare at the rug under her feet. "Oh." Gods, she hadn't realized she'd been so transparent.

"I really enjoyed it, though," Maki continues, and Nico finally looks up at her, noticing the red staining the other girl's cheeks. "Everything about your gift. It must've taken a long time to make." She watches the rise and fall of Maki's chest as she takes a deep breath. "T-Thank you."

The blush that Nico's been trying to hold back erupts, like a dormant volcano exploding. Oh, god. There it is. There it is! Stammered words of thankfulness. She can die happy now.

It's only when Maki starts shaking that Nico realizes that she isn't actually wearing a jacket. "Um, why are you wearing nothing but a cardigan and a pleated skirt in like, subzero degree temperature."

Maki frowns, but the scowl she sends her would have looked more menacing if she weren't shivering. "It's not subzero degree temperature. Anyway, tights keep my legs warm enough," she argues. "And, well—" She scratches her cheek. "—I wasn't really thinking. I kind of rushed to get here."

"Oh my god, loser," Nico says, turning her head to conceal the giant smile that's made its way onto her face. She grabs Maki's hand and pulls her in, laughing at the yelp Maki lets out when she lurches forward. "Just get inside already."

* * *

"For the record, _you're_ the loser," Maki snipes back when they finally arrive in Nico's bedroom. Nico can't even get mad at the jab, though, because she's smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, thanking the gods that she hadn't gotten back into her pajamas. Her grin hasn't even left her face yet.

Maki settles herself on Nico's bed, laying down her purse on the floor. Nico's thanking the gods again, tenfold, because she'd just replaced her sheets this morning, crisp and fresh right out of the dryer, still tinged with a hint of detergent. The stars must've really aligned today or something, she thinks, because the rest of her room is impeccably neat as well: pillows and blankets folded neatly on her bed, clothes all stowed away in the drawers, floor vacuumed and spotless. She'd tidied everything up right before dropping her gift off at the Nishikino residence; at the time, it'd been a calming mechanism, a distraction to help combat her nerves about the whole Secret Santa ordeal, but now she couldn't have been any more thankful.

No harm in showing off a bit of domestic prowess, right?

"You're just mad that I'm so thoughtful," Nico counters, walking over to her window and spreading out the pink curtains. The sunlight filters in, and she leans back, craning her neck to check out her full-length mirror, giving her appearance a quick once-over before plopping down beside Maki. "You know me. Super Idol Nico-Nii is never one to be outdone in anything." She sticks out her tongue.

Maki shoves her playfully, an exasperated smile on her face. "You really went all out."

Nico's brows shoot up, because it's not like Maki to agree so easily. "Oooh, what's that? Maki actually _admitting_ , for once, that Nico-Nii is the best? Amazing. Must be my lucky day," Nico says, puffing out her chest and placing her hands on her hips.

Maki rolls her eyes, but Nico doesn't miss the blush on her cheeks, nor the fact that she's still smiling. She nudges Nico with her shoulder. "How did you even think of all of that? All the books, I mean."

"Maki," she starts, "we've known each other for almost a year now. Every other person in μ's knows that you love eating tomatoes and that you love to stargaze. Actually, if we take it a step further, even our _fans_ know." Nico pulls out her phone, tapping in the web address of their group idol website. "Look—" She turns her screen, pointing to Maki's page. "All of it is listed under our member profiles and interviews, duh. Anyone could have figured it out."

Maki grabs her phone and flips it shut, the smile on her face dropping. "Yeah, but our fans don't know I'm terrible at cooking, so I'd need a beginner's recipe manual," she counters. "And they know I like stargazing, but they don't know that I'm not well-versed in the stories behind the constellations. Everything you gave me fit all of my likes and interests, yeah. But they're also very nuanced—tailored to _me_. And not just the version of me on paper."

Nico's eyes dart away. Her fingers start to fiddle with the hem of her sleeve, picking at a loose thread. "What are you trying to say."

Maki plucks Nico's hand from her sleeve, covering it with her own before setting them in the space between their thighs. Her hands are warm now, Nico realizes, her own fingers curling reflexively around Maki's, wanting to feel the heat of her fingertips soak into her skin—a pleasant surprise compared to earlier, when she'd pulled her in from the biting cold.

"I'm saying," Maki says, voice soft, running her thumb across Nico's palm, "that the level of thought that went into this isn't akin to receiving a random gift from _just a fan_ , Nico-chan. And—" Maki swallows; Nico watches the bob of her throat.

"And?" Nico urges, mouth feeling dry.

Maki squeezes her hand. "I just need to know, Nico-chan. Were you serious? About everything you typed in that letter?"

Nico stiffens. Right. The letter. "Well, it's easier than writing everything out by hand," she says, lightly, wanting to divert the direction of the conversation. Hell, what had even possessed her to write up half of that garbage, anyway.

"That's not it," Maki says. She pivots her body to face Nico, placing a hand on her shoulder. Nico holds her breath. "Enough beating around the bush. We really need to talk about what you wrote."

Nico shrugs her hand off, scooting over to the other side of the bed. "I told you that I didn't want you to act any differently toward me, so no, I don't think we need to. Seriously, don't worry about it."

Maki follows her, closing in on what little personal space she has left. Nico gulps as her back hits the headboard. "How can you expect me not to act any differently after knowing how you actually feel, though?" Maki asks. "You act so pompous and full of yourself every other moment, but for once you were finally being real with me in that letter, you know?" She rubs her arms. "And this whole time I kept doubting whether or not you actually cared or if you just saw me as someone you could poke fun at."

Nico's nervousness paves way into frustration. She narrows her eyes. "What—and you thought that I didn't feel the same way? Gee, Maki, it really feels nice when you insult me out of the blue sometimes," she says, sarcasm lacing her voice with more bite than intended. "Like, oh, you know, insinuating that my appearance isn't up to par with the rest of the group for _Love Wing Bell_." Oh no, this is heading into dangerous territory, much too fast.

Maki's hand grips at the sheets, balling them into her fist. "And you think I feel any better when you pretend to act all lovey-dovey toward me when all you really want is to get a rise out of me? Really?"

"Well, yeah!" Nico all but yells. Shit, she doesn't mean to get into it—not like this—but the words keep tumbling out, like an avalanche unleashed, crushing all of her self-restraint. "I have to find _some_ way to cope with you being a giant _ass_ to me every other moment!"

Maki gasps. Her eyes widen. Nico turns her head, closing her eyes, unable to stand the hurt expression on Maki's face—the one that that's entirely _her_ fault. Nice. Way to fuck everything up.

Nico's predicting it all now: for about ten seconds, Maki's just going to sit there in a stupor, wondering what the hell her problem is, and then when she finally comes to, she's probably going to run out of her room, out of her house, and call Hanayo and complain about what a shit friend she is. And then Hanayo is going to tell Rin, and then Rin is going to tell _everyone_ , and _then_ —

"I'm sorry," Maki whispers, and Nico's eyes shoot open. Her jaw drops. An apology is the one thing she hadn't expected, let alone Maki actually acknowledging she'd been a jerk to her.

Nico looks to the side, gripping at the fabric of her arm sleeve. "I'm sorry, too," she says. "I know I'm tough to deal with sometimes."

They're quiet for a moment.

When Nico finally musters the courage to look back, she finds that Maki's already staring at her, and for once there's a candid sort of tenderness there in her eyes, unguarded—so unlike how Nico is used to, with all those layers of hardened barriers. "Your letter," Maki continues, shifting forward even closer. Nico tries not to squeak when Maki's knee brushes against the bare skin of her thighs.

"What about it?"

"You said you weren't sure sometimes if I even considered you as a friend. I think at that moment, I definitely knew the gift was from you, because—well. You're the only one I've been consistently mean towards."

Before Nico can even throw back a retort, Maki places her index finger on her lips, effectively shutting her up and subduing her rising ire. "Let me finish," Maki insists, and Nico can only nod dumbly. Satisfied with Nico's cooperation, Maki removes her finger, laying her hand flat down on the mattress. Nico licks her lips on instinct, wanting to smooth away the sensation of Maki touching her so intimately. God, does Maki even know what she's doing to her?

"Anyway, there's a reason for that," Maki says, twirling a lock of her hair. "At first I got sort of annoyed, you know? Like I said before, you always put up a front of looking all confident, and I just wanted to put you in your place. But later on… it was for a different reason entirely." Maki's avoiding eye contact with her now. Her finger speeds up the twirling.

Nico leans to the side, staring at the analogue clock across her room, waiting exactly ten seconds before speaking up. "Sooo, are you going to tell me what that reason is, or—"

"That depends," Maki cuts in. "What did you mean, in the letter, when you said that other times you thought that maybe…" She drops her hand from her hair, laying it on Nico's knee instead. Her palm is warm, Nico realizes, shivering at the contact. "What were you going to say?"

"That's not really fair, Maki," Nico says, covering Maki's hand with her own to push it off her knee, settling both down on the bed. Their fingers end up lacing. "You were just about to tell me why you've been singling me out with your rude behavior. I think I at least deserve to know that much, don't I?"

Maki crosses her legs, looking to the side, and Nico has to try not to scream because her expression is already hard to read as is, even without facing away from her. "You do," Maki agrees, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

"So?" Nico prompts.

Maki unlaces their fingers, covering her face, and the words that come out are a jumble of syllables that Nico can't catch.

Nico shifts awkwardly. "Umm. I didn't understand that."

Then, louder, "What do you do when you like someone but don't want them to find out."

Oh, hell, why is Maki talking about _crushes._ "Not tell them," Nico replies, clutching the fabric against her chest, not sure if her heart is about to break from agony or burst from anticipation. Gods, hadn't _Maki_ been the one to tell them to stop beating around the bush? "Maki, what are you—"

"What do you do," Maki continues, voice steadier, stronger, "when you like someone but want them to think the opposite. Because you're afraid."

Nico's breath hitches. _No way_. "Ignore them, or…"

"Be mean to them," Maki finishes for her in a whisper.

Nico blinks. Maki turns to her, biting her lower lip, keeping steady eye contact despite the brilliant shade of red on her cheeks. It's an odd sight, seeing Maki look so openly embarrassed in front of her like this. Even odder that she isn't running away like she usually is.

Nico blushes equally as hard when everything clicks. "Oh," she manages to croak out. She fidgets. "Oh." God, this entire time—

Her mind flashes back to every insolent thing Maki's said or done to her, the hurt she's always tried to brush off with a shrug of her shoulders and a cocky smile. Trying to juxtapose _that_ with her newfound knowledge is a lot like finding out she's been trying to screw in nails using a wrench: the pieces fit together, but she's been using the wrong tool the entire time. She's never wanted to _assume_ , but goodness, Maki really is textbook tsundere.

The sound of sheets shuffling breaks Nico out of her stupor. She watches Maki legs tense as makes a move to stand up, but Nico makes a grab for her hand, anchoring her back down onto the bed. "That's it?" she asks, incredulous. "You're just going to confess and leave without asking how I feel?" There's no way in hell she's going to let Maki go without letting her know. She wraps her arms around the small of Maki's back, tugging her forward, lips curling into a smile mischievously as Maki's eyes widen at the sudden motion.

She clears her throat. "So I have a few questions for you, Maki."

The tiny squeak that comes out of her mouth sounds something like an affirmative.

"You're in your crush's room, and you're both home alone. You've just confessed. In kind of a roundabout way, but—" Nico pauses, purposefully, savoring Maki's embarrassment as she covers her face with both hands. "—because you're cute, it actually wins you some points. Lucky you."

Maki drops her hands and grips Nico's shoulders instead. "Nico-chan," she pleads. "Are you going to tell me that you like me back, or are you just going to sit here and make fun of me? Because—"

"So," Nico continues, ignoring her, dragging her arm up to hook behind Maki's neck, burrowing her hands in the red tresses, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo. Cocoa butter. Nico grins. What pretentious taste. "Let's say your crush likes you back." A sharp intake of breath. "She's pulled you back down onto the bed, has her arms wrapped around you." Nico leans forward, almost close enough that their noses touch. Her heart is beating so fast, so loudly that she can barely hear herself anymore.

Nico touches their foreheads together. She's close enough to see Maki's eyes dilate, and it's then that she realizes Maki's actually staring at her lips. "What do you do?" she whispers, voice a bit raspy. "Oh, and by the way, if it wasn't obvious she _totally_ just gave you a huge opening to—"

Maki cuts her off with a swift kiss to the lips, and Nico gasps against her mouth, tasting the barest hints of her cherry chapstick. _About time._ She holds Maki's hair back as she pulls them both flat onto the bed, Maki's chest flush against her own, shaky with uneven breaths. It's still all so _surreal_ , she thinks, that Maki actually _likes_ her, is actually the one on top of her, caressing her sides with slow strokes of her hands—hands that Nico's so accustomed to shoving her back, snubbing her at every turn. All the months and months of pining have hardened her to the idea of rejection and heartbreak, but they've never prepared her for the scenario where their feelings ended up _mutual_.

Nico lets out a whine when Maki shifts again, the fabric of her tights brushing against her inner thighs. Maki's breath is hot against her lips when she tugs at Nico's bottom lip one last time before breaking their kiss. "Nico-chan," she exhales.

God, Maki's face is flawlessly perfect even up close, too, Nico thinks as she strokes her cheek. "Yes, honey?"

Maki actually smiles at the term of endearment this time. Nico can't help but smile back. "I actually have something for you," she says, getting back up, and Nico has to resist tugging her back down for another make out session. Lifting up her purse, Maki pulls out the item that's been sticking out, handing it off to Nico.

Her eyes widen as she sits back up. "Is this—"

"Isn't it weird that we both happened to pull each other's names?"

"Beyond weird," Nico says, examining the gift, wrapped in a fairly small box. Definitely nowhere near as big as hers had been, but she knows how rich people work: small things, inflated prices. "Am I allowed to open it now?"

"Do you want to wait?"

"Maybe. Should I?"

Maki shrugs. "If you want to. Honestly, I only brought it over in the case that I was wrong."

Nico quirks an eyebrow at her. "Wrong about what?"

"Well, when I said that I knew you were my Secret Santa, I was half lying." Maki rubs the back of her neck. "In the back of my head, I thought maybe it was just wishful thinking, so… if I happened to be wrong, then this would be my backup plan."

Nico snorts. "What—just shove it in my hands and run away?"

"Something like that."

"I'm going to save it for the party tomorrow, then." She sends Maki a wink. "I need to see the look on everyone's face when they see how much you doted on me."

Maki crinkles her nose. "Please. This is coming from someone who doted on me even more. Seriously, you even got me a jazz theory book. I've wanted one for ages, but my parents never signed me up for any classes. So thank you."

Nico sticks her chin up. "Ha! Only the best from Super Idol Nico-Nii, especially now that I'm your girlf—" She halts her sentence abruptly, shoulders hunching. God, they haven't actually _talked_ about what they are now, have they. Does a kiss even qualify them to be dating? Don't adults go around kissing strangers all the time, too? Like one night stands? What about—

"Girlfriend?" Maki finishes, cutting off her train of thought, leaning over to peck her cheek. Nico's mind goes blissfully blank, doubts dispelled in an instant.

"Girlfriend," Nico agrees, and she pulls Maki in for Make-out Session Number Two.

* * *

It takes them half an hour for them to even think about separating, and by the end of it, the only conclusion that Nico can make is that her lung capacity is way better than she'd thought.

"Hey, Nico-chan," Maki says, breathing heavily, lying back down beside her.

"Yeah?"

"You told me to wrap up the gift again before the party, but…"

"What is it?" Nico stares at her inquisitively. Her hair is all mussed up, in loops and tangles at the ends, and Nico instinctively moves to smooth it all out, fingers combing through the knots.

Maki sighs into her touch, but she hides her face in the sheets before responding in a muffle, "I don't really know how to. I'm bad with wrapping paper."

Nico bites her lips, struggling not to let any laughter escape. (She can see it now, the front headlines of school idol gossip magazines: The Almighty Rich and Pretty Maki Nishikino—Surprisingly Incompetent! Read page 69 to learn _more_ about how she needs her girlfriend to help with small domestic chores!)

So this is what it feels like, she thinks, to love someone who's finally being honest, and to be honest in kind. She remembers what Maki was like before, always too self-conscious, too prideful to admit not knowing how to do things. But here she is now, actually asking for help, vulnerability open and bare for her to see, the hesitance in her eyes yet another thing about her that Nico will grow to love.

What a good day.

Nico smiles, warmth bubbling in her chest as she takes Maki's hand, kissing the inside of her wrist.

"Then I'll teach you."


End file.
